by Pamela Yaye
Eager to make love, Geneviève undid the button on his pants, yanked down the zipper and slid a hand inside his boxer briefs, capturing his long, thick erection in her palm. Roderick covered her hands with his, and Geneviève froze. Stared up at him in confusion, wondering what she did wrong. She saw the troubled expression on his face and noticed his lips were moving, but her brain was so fuzzy she didn’t understand what he was saying. Geneviève held her breath, waiting for the moment to pass. Her gut was telling her that something was wrong, and alarm bells rang in her ears, but Geneviève didn’t want to leave her cozy spot on his lap. “You’re a great kisser,” she praised, pressing her lips against his collarbone. “The best I’ve ever had.”
“Geneviève, this is wrong.”
She licked his earlobe. “If sexing you is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”
“I’m serious,” he said, sliding her off his lap. “I don’t have any protection—”
“Then we’ll go down to the hotel gift shop and buy some.”
Roderick gripped her shoulders, and she stopped caressing his chest through his shirt.
“We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Geneviève hated herself for not grabbing her things and marching out the door, but she didn’t understand why he was suddenly giving her the cold shoulder. “You’re attracted to me, and I feel the same way about you, so why are you pushing me away? What did I do wrong?”
Silence enveloped the room. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he rubbed his forehead with his hand.
“If I wasn’t your attorney I wouldn’t give a second thought to making love to you, but I don’t want us to do something we’re going to regret in the morning.”
Her intuition told her he was lying, but before she could question him he spoke.
“It’s late,” he said, his eyes glued to the wall clock. “I’ll walk you to your suite.”
Geneviève rested a hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Roderick, you’re overthinking things. It’s just one night. One incredible, passionate night with no strings attached, and no drama. What could be better?”
“Geneviève, you don’t understand...” Shaking his head, he trailed off. Roderick grabbed the remote control off the couch, turned off the TV and stared at the blank screen.
“You’re right, I don’t understand, so talk to me because none of this makes sense.”
“For me, it could never be one night. I’m just not wired that way.”
The pained expression on his face spoke volumes to her. He was upset, and Geneviève felt like an ass for ruining his good mood. An hour ago, they’d been laughing and flirting in the VIP lounge, and now he looked as if his dog had died. Had she made a mistake inviting herself to his suite? Did he regret making out with her?
“I’m not a one and done kind of guy. I’ve never had a one-night stand or...”
Good! Me neither, but I’m willing to make an exception for you!
“When I fall for someone I’m all in, 100 percent committed, and I expect the same from the woman I’m dating,” he explained, with a sad smile. “But I can’t date you.”
The earth stopped rotating on its axis. A cold breeze blew into the room, chilling Geneviève to the bone. Unable to believe what she was hearing, she gawked at him. Narrowed her eyes and studied him like a painting in a museum. For a moment she thought he was teasing her, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but there was no mistaking the vulnerability in his voice, or the emotion behind his words.
“Geneviève, I’m attracted to you, and I think you’re an incredible woman, but if I hook up with you it could have serious consequences for my career, and I don’t want to lose the best job I’ve ever had. I’ve worked too hard for too long to let that happen.”
His confession was a painful blow, but she found her voice and spoke her truth.
“Don’t I get a say in any of this? Doesn’t it matter what I want?”
“I hope you’ll respect my decision.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to be with me, but you’re worried about getting fired?” Geneviève spotted her backpack at the foot of the couch, snatched it off the floor and searched inside for her cell phone. “I’m going to call Welker, Bradford and Davidson and request another attorney, effective immediately. Problem solved.”
“Geneviève, please don’t. The senior partners will think I’m ineffective and incompetent.”
“Then I’ll just have to convince them otherwise.” Her mind made up, she took her cell phone out of her bag and punched in her password. She had dozens of text messages and missed calls from her mom, but she ignored them. Searching online for the number for the law firm, Geneviève rehearsed what she was going to say to Mr. Welker when they spoke, but a text message popped up on the screen from Demi, and every muscle in her body tensed.
Gigi, I hope you’re not in Roderick’s suite because mom is on her way there!
What! Her stomach churned, and panic drenched her skin. Geneviève surged to her feet, marched into the bathroom and studied her reflection in the mirror. Shocked by her disheveled appearance, she cringed at the image staring back at her. Her eyes were sad, her lips swollen and her ponytail a crooked, sloppy mess. Althea would take one look at her and know exactly what she’d been doing in Roderick’s suite, but Geneviève didn’t care. She was a grown woman, not a kid, and she wasn’t going to apologize for living her life. She was an accomplished, successful woman, not a puppet, and she deserved to be treated with respect.
Someone banged on the door, and the noise shattered the silence. Thinking fast, Geneviève rushed into the living room and yanked Roderick away from the door. She couldn’t think of anything worse than her mom dragging her out of the suite, and pressed a finger to her mouth to prevent Roderick from speaking. Geneviève feared what would happen if he opened the door, and sighed in relief when the pounding stopped and footsteps faded into the distance.
“Have you ever met the right person at the wrong time?” Roderick asked in a quiet voice.
Ignoring him, Geneviève snatched her bag off the couch, slung it over her shoulder and spun on her heels. Roderick caught her forearm and pulled her to his chest. Gazing up at him, her anger waned. There was so much she wanted to say, but Geneviève kept her feelings to herself. Her confession wasn’t going to change anything, so why risk being vulnerable? He’d made his position clear, and Geneviève wasn’t going to beg for his affection. Instead of fretting over Roderick—a man who obviously didn’t want her—she was going to wait patiently for Mr. Right to come along. Geneviève only hoped that he’d be as thoughtful and chivalrous as Roderick, because even though she was disappointed in him, he was one of the kindest, sweetest people she’d ever met.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He released her hand.
“What did you think would happen?” she demanded, cocking her head. “You know what, Roderick? Just forget it. Forget I was here, forget we kissed and forget you know me.”
“Geneviève, don’t talk like that. We’re friends, and I’d do anything to help you.”
“Good, then get out of my way.” Shocked by the bitterness of her tone and bothered by the pained look in his eyes, Geneviève considered apologizing for snapping at Roderick, but deleted the thought from her mind. He’d hurt her feelings, not the other way around, and she didn’t owe him anything. “I’m out of here. Have a nice life.”
“I meant what I said. I had a great time with you tonight—”
Geneviève barked a laugh, drowning out the rest of his sentence. “I’m confused. Was that before or after you rejected me?”
“You make it sound sinister, as if I willfully and intentionally set out to hurt you.”
“Don’t sweat it, Roderick, it’s your loss, not mine,” she whispered in a sultry voice, leaning forward to brush her mouth against his lips. “I was going to rock your world all n
ight long.”
Geneviève smirked. The look on his face was priceless. His mouth sagged open and his Adam’s apple bounced inside his throat.
“Good night, Counselor.” Stepping past him, Geneviève yanked open the door and marched into the hallway. She felt a pang of guilt and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “I won’t see you before you leave on Wednesday, but have a safe flight to New York.”
He called out to her, but Geneviève continued through the corridor, even though the weight of his rejection felt like an albatross around her neck.
And if that isn’t bad enough, I have to sneak into my suite without my mom catching me!
Chapter 11
Roderick stared at the bleak, cloud-covered sky as he strode toward the rooftop gym. Exercise was a great stress reliever, and staying fit was an important part of his image, so he jogged every day, rain or shine. And, after working in his suite for hours, he needed a mental break. Before rolling out of bed that morning, he’d checked his work emails, his voice mail and his social media accounts, and discovered that several of his clients were spiraling out of control. His first task of the day had been to negotiate a contract for an aging R&B singer, and arguing with the Cleveland native had given him a migraine. His job was to advocate for his clients and teach them how to evaluate contracts for benefits and pitfalls, but she wouldn’t listen to him, arguing that she deserved more money from her record label. When he returned to New York, he’d meet with her face-to-face, and explain his point of view.
The blustery morning breeze whipped through the air, and the clouds were darker than night, but Roderick wasn’t worried about the impending rainstorm; he was worried about Geneviève. Had been ever since she stormed out of his suite on Saturday night. She’d knocked him off his game, and now he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think of anything but her, even though he had tons of paperwork to do. Every time Roderick closed his eyes, he saw Geneviève glaring back at him. Forty-eight hours later, her words still played in his mind, tormenting him. You’re attracted to me, and I feel the same way about you, so why are you pushing me away?
Roderick yawned, then stretched his arms across his chest to loosen his sore muscles. His brain wouldn’t shut off long enough for him to sleep, and last night he’d tossed and turned until his alarm clock went off at 5:00 a.m. He’d replayed every moment of his sightseeing excursion with Geneviève—their marathon lunch, their afternoon hike, flirting and dancing at the VIP lounge, hanging out in his suite—and wished he’d never asked her out. Not because he didn’t like her, but because he couldn’t control his feelings for her. It was hard to look at her and not think about kissing her...touching her...licking every inch of her delicious body.
Hooking up with Geneviève was risky. Reckless. Stupid. He knew the firm’s rules, knew what was at stake, and he didn’t want to do something he’d regret. Geneviève was a distraction—a five-foot-nine temptress with ridiculous sex appeal—and nothing good could come of them being lovers. He had to guard his heart against her. Sneaking around with Geneviève would be career suicide, especially if things went sour, and Roderick didn’t want history to repeat itself. The last time he’d let his guard down he’d been burned, and he wasn’t going down that road again.
Roderick bent down, tied his shoelaces, then set the timer on his Apple watch for one hour. The U-shaped rooftop track was his favorite amenity at the five-star hotel, and even though the weather was gray and gloomy, the outdoor gym was filled with dozens of other guests.
Putting on his wireless headphones, he adjusted the volume, turning it up loud to block out the noises around him. Rap music played in his ears, and the song made him think of Geneviève. They’d danced to it at the restaurant-lounge, and he remembered how they’d talked and flirted in the VIP area for hours. What struck him about Geneviève was how smart she was. Outspoken and animated, she enjoyed discussing social issues, world history and hot topics. Her stories were fascinating, her laughter infectious and her impressions of Althea and Demi made him chuckle long and hard.
Roderick ran full speed on the track, vigorously pumping his arms, but he couldn’t outrun his thoughts. He had a soft spot for Geneviève, had since the day they met, and he wanted to make things right with her before he left Madrid. He’d reached out to her several times over the past two days, but she hadn’t returned any of his calls or text messages. Thankfully, Demi did, and gave him daily updates about her sister. She’d invited him to Geneviève’s concert and the wrap party afterward in the hotel lounge, and he’d accepted. He wasn’t missing Geneviève’s last show in Madrid for anything. Roderick didn’t know what to expect when he saw her that evening, and hoped she wouldn’t shut him out again.
Feeling energized by being outdoors, Roderick mentally reviewed his schedule for the rest of the week. He spent most of his day speaking to clients, managers, agents and record studio executives on the phone, and although he was thousands of miles away from New York, his agenda was jam-packed. He juggled dozens of business deals at one time, and when he wasn’t writing, editing and reviewing contracts, he was advising his clients about the pitfalls of the music industry.
His first order of business tomorrow was a nine o’clock meeting at Madrid Law, but Roderick wasn’t worried. The story of Geneviève assaulting José Sánchez was old news, and now Mr. Cabrero was sweating bullets because he didn’t have any leverage. To make them disappear once and for all, Roderick would offer the scheming twosome a six-figure cash settlement, and he was confident they would take the money and run.
“I figured I’d find you here, running your ass off, but slow down, man. I’m out of shape!” Demi appeared, holding her cell phone in one hand and a water bottle in the other. “How is my favorite attorney doing this morning?”
“Hey, Demi.” Stopping, he wiped the sweat from his brow with his wristband and dropped down on a metal bench. He needed a pick-me-up, something to take his mind off his troubles, and Demi was the perfect distraction. Moreover, he wanted to know how Geneviève was doing. Was she still mad at him? Had she read his text messages? Had she changed her mind about doing the reality TV dating show? She’d mentioned it on Saturday, and now it was all he could think about. Roderick worried Geneviève wasn’t strong enough to stand up to her mother and would eventually agree to the offer. “How’s it going?”
“Great! I just finished having brekkie, and it was so good my mouth is still watering!”
“Did you eat with Geneviève?” he asked, curious about his favorite client. “Where is she?”
“Rehearsing at the arena, of course. She’s been at it nonstop since yesterday.” Demi beamed. “Tonight’s the big finale, and Gigi’s pulling out all the stops for her Madrid fans.”
“I need to see her, Demi. I have to apologize for the other night.”
Leaning over, she patted his check. “You’ll see her. I promise. Be patient.”
“I’m trying, but I feel like an ass, and I want to make things right with her.”
“You should!” she quipped. “Gigi’s crushing on you big-time, and you blew it, man!”
Adorable in a hot pink crop top, leggings and sneakers, the personal assistant looked like a college freshman, and her bright outfit attracted the attention of the other guests at the gym.
“Demi, you’re wrong. We’re just friends—”
“Sure, sure, and this is my natural hair color!” Giggling at her joke, she gave him a shot in the ribs with her elbow. “Roderick, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you have feelings for my sister, and I think you’re just the kind of man Gigi needs, so don’t screw this up. I’m counting on you.”
A bitter taste filled his mouth. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but he felt guilty about what had happened in his suite with Geneviève on Saturday night. He’d lied to her about not having any condoms, and even though he’d had to take two cold showers after she left, he didn’t regret his decisio
n. He couldn’t risk losing his career, or jeopardizing his promotion. To turn her scowl into a smile, he joked, “Demi, are you sure you’re a personal assistant and not a therapist, because you sure sound like one.”
“A therapist?” she repeated, with an amused expression on her face.
“Yeah, from now on I’m going to call you Dr. Demi, because you love to give advice—”
“I almost forgot, I have to show you something.” Moving closer to him on the bench, Demi crossed her legs and raised her iPhone in the air. “Check this out.”
Groaning, Roderick shook his head. “No more cat videos. I know you and Geneviève think they’re hilarious, but I don’t, and the one you showed me yesterday was downright creepy.”
“It’s not. I promise. A woman from Cádiz just posted this video to my social media page, and I think it’s the footage you’ve been looking for.”
Demi gestured to her iPhone with a flick of her head.
“Just watch,” she said, in a stern voice. “Trust me, you want to see this.”
Roderick took off his sunglasses and peered at the screen. The video was grainy and the sound was poor, but he recognized the Madrid-Barajas International Airport—and Geneviève.
* * *
At the sight of her, his mouth dried and his heart swelled. Clad in a denim blouse tied at the waist, slim-fitted white pants and pointy heels, she’d moved through the airport terminal with inherent grace, smiling and waving at the crowd. Outside, she’d stopped to blow kisses, sign autographs and take pictures with her pint-size fans.
Intrigued, he grabbed the iPhone from Demi’s hands and moved it closer to his face. His teeth clenched, and if his pulse were beating any louder he’d be deaf. The video proved that Geneviève was telling the truth about the incident at the airport on New Year’s Day. José Sánchez had grabbed her. His first thought was to find the smug, slick college student and pummel him into the ground, but Roderick remembered he was an attorney, not a WWE wrestler, and shook his head to clear his mind. Now that he had the footage, he had the upper hand, and Roderick planned to use it to his advantage.
